Help Me
by Amisa the Writer
Summary: Historia Reiss has lost her memory, forgetting all about her past. Though this would leave her with a "clean slate" a certain blond boy has chosen to help her recover her memories. But those she even want to recover her memories? What will the boy do if the love of his life doesn't remember him? (I don't own Attack on Titan, it's published by Kodansha nor do I own the cover image).


Nothingness, blankness, an abyss on emptiness.

That's how she felt, the girl lying on the clean, white bed in what seemed to be a clinic. She was somewhere in adolescence, more or less fifteen years old, head covered with matted platinum pale locks, dark bags under sunken pale blue eyes and pale, nearly gray, skin.

She had just woken up from a comatose state that she had been in for a few weeks, but she didn't know that. She didn't even know where she was or who she was. She couldn't even tell if she herself was even alive.

Struggling to keep her seemingly heavy eyelids open, she fell back into a slumber, but not before hearing a certain voice near the door screaming, "She's awake!"

When she had awoken a couple of hours later, the first thing she had felt was a sickening throb of a headache ring through her and black spots danced around in her vision. Dazed, she assessed the room she was in: nice, clean walls, a window a couple of feet to her right that let the all too bright sun to shine in, a thin white blanket draped over her small figure, and a golden-haired boy sitting on a wooden chair next to her, clearly sleeping.

Who he was, she didn't know; she had tried to remember who he was because he had seemed awfully familiar, but her mind couldn't register anything without pain finding its way surging through her head. She let out an audible yelp, similar to that of a puppy. Quickly, she place her hand over her mouth, as if it would hold back the sound of her pain from reaching the boy.

Almost immediately, the blond boy woke up, slightly dazed at first, but then his eyes filled with so much emotion as tears started burning their way to the corners of his eyes.

Suddenly, before the girl could figure out what was going on, the boy pulled her into a tight embrace and the proceeded to place a chaste kiss upon her lips. The girl quickly pulled away, leaving the blond boy stunned. The stunned look on his face quickly tuned into one of hurt and rejection, but their was still a gleam of hope still evident and radiant in those two nearly cerulean eyes of his.

"Historia?" he asked, slowly and gently picking up her small hand in his larger hand, "It's me, Armin."

_Armin... why does name seem so familiar,_ the girl dubbed Historia thought as she peered blankly into the boy's emotional eyes, almost feeling the hope that was entwined with confusion.

Her head throbbed again, causing her to whimper slightly. Armin looked at Historia worriedly, feeling his own heart start to tear up; seeing her in pain was like looking at a weeping angel.

"Historia," he said softly, poking at her hand, "where is the pain?"

The girl opened her mouth to answer, but the only sound that escaped was a small moan. The black spots have turned into a blackout; the girl was suddenly out cold.

After waking up for the third time, Historia had learned to just not move to conserve her energy, which she was content with. Her body and mind were extremely sore so watching the boy called Armin's every _single _ move was her new form of entertainment.

And it seemed to be slightly amused by this fact. The two blonds just stared at each other for five minutes, ten minutes, a half hour. Just staring. Not sizing each other up, not intimidating each other, just merely observing.

The silence wasn't exactly as awkward as one would imagine. It was just... silence. It wasn't a calming silence, no, but more of an apprehensive silence, a silence full of tension. It was as if those moments in that clean, white room were glass, and if one of them were to speak, then that beautiful glass would be broken.

And Armin decided to ruin the beautiful glass of silence by asking, "Do you remember me?"

Something about the soft, sad tone of his voice made Historia tremble; no, she didn't remember anything. She didn't remember who she was, where she was, or who the boy sitting next to her was. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, but for some reason unbeknown for her, she tried to prevent them from falling.

But the salty tears dripped down anyways, slowly coming out, one by one. Armin cupped her face in his hands. "It's okay, Historia, everything's gonna be alright," he said in a soft voice, wiping her tears away.

"I don't even know who you are," she cried into his shirt, soaking it in her tears, but Armin didn't care. All he wanted to do was comfort her.

"I'll help you, Historia. And if I can't, the least I can do is try to be here for you," Armin said, wrapping his arms tightly around her.

And strangely, she was comfortable with the feeling of his embrace, even though he seemed to be a perfect stranger _in her eyes._

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**The image used for the cover can be found here: fav/qualeshia3/Christa+Renz (I don't own it)**

**So, this was supposed to be a chapter for AruKuri oneshots, but I wanted to make more of this fic so here you go! The updates are probably going to be sporadic so please put up with me.**


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